


can’t wait to shut you up

by tripleangst



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Jack Has Feelings, M/M, Sex, Sexting, drunken bets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripleangst/pseuds/tripleangst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wins a drunken bet with Connor and gets a lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can’t wait to shut you up

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fiction would not exist without my beta4lyfe, [teaboytoaliens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teaboytoaliens). Her obsession with hockey and the NHL rookies this year have caused me to have feelings. Jenny fixed a whole bunch of shit in this piece and made it way better, so you can thank her if you like my Jack/Connor trash. Go check out her stuff, too. 
> 
> Update: Since Connor is temporarily broken and won't be playing the Dec 6 game, this is now even more of a fictional piece. Plz go along with me. Kthx.

\---

September 1, 2015.

The Rookie Showcase is fun--it’s a whole lot of hurry-up-and-wait shit, but whatever. It’s a bit of a break for Jack from killing himself training, and it’s good to see all the guys from the draft. 

It’s pretty cool to get to play NHL 16 for the first time, too, especially after learning first-hand how they make the graphics as true-to-life as they do. Connor and Dylan end up beating Jack and Noah--fuck Connor’s “broken” controller, what the fuck--but enough alcohol after dinner makes it easier for Jack to forget he lost to Connor. Even in a video game, it pisses him off. Connor’s face pisses him off.

A few of the guys hang around in Dylan and Connor’s room when they get back to the hotel, and Noah’s the first to bring out the liquor from his own room. Everyone cheers and dives into drinking, since they’ve all got something to celebrate. Crouse starts a card game on one of the beds while Strome and Marner drag a bunch of the guys onto the other. They put on a movie and lead by example in making crude comments about the actors on the screen. Connor has a mini air hockey table--because of course he does, why does Jack question anything--and he gestures for Jack to come and play against him by the door of the room, a little blocked off from everyone else. 

_Why the fuck not_ , Jack thinks to himself, sitting down across from Connor.

Whatever anyone says, Jack doesn’t hate Connor. He doesn’t really _know_ Connor--except, well. There’s one thing he does know.

They had to do an interview for NHL Network together months ago at the draft combine--they met barely 24 hours before, and it was awkward to even sit next to each other with all the cameras and people looking straight at them. Jack was content to just suffer through it in silence, but Connor seemed to think they should actually _talk_ , and that made shit even worse. McDavid might be good at playing hockey, but that unfortunately doesn’t translate to small talk. He latched onto one of Jack’s answers to an interview question and hesitantly said, “So, _The Wolf of Wall Street_ ,” before falling silent again. 

Jack waited, but when it was clear that was as much as Connor could manage, replied, “Margot Robbie, man.” 

Connor said, “Yeah,” and then added, “Leo, too.” 

Jack nodded automatically, then hesitated. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, and Connor offered him a tentative smile. Jack shrugged, and then they were being shepherded off to the next round of the same questions. 

It was fucking weird, to be honest. Who did McDavid think he was, going around insinuating things about his sexuality to people he’d met on the street two seconds ago? Who did he think he was tricking Jack into low key admitting the same thing back? 

But after spending nearly every waking moment with him for a month, Jack’s pretty sure _weird_ is just something that comes naturally to Connor. 

A couple games of air hockey and shots of whiskey later and Connor’s talking to Jack like they’re old pals.

“Eichs, I have a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I believe it. What?”

“You and me,” Connor hiccups, setting his drink down on the air hockey table in front of them. “Whoever gets a goal first should win something.”

Jack laughs, shooting the air hockey puck right into Connor’s side of the table. “Like what? Gotta be good, McDavid. I don’t bet lightly. How much?”

Connor leans against the table, completely unphased by losing the game of air hockey, which is so not like him to not care. “Blowjob.”

Jack quickly looks around to make sure no one can hear them. “The fuck? How drunk are you?”

Connor laughs, apparently too drunk to care about being private. “Do we have a bet?”

It might be the alcohol, but something in Jack just wants to say yes. He doesn’t think Connor will remember what he said in the morning anyway, so there’s no point in turning down a bet. “Game on, McDavid.”

***

October 8, 2015.

Jack hates losing as much as the next guy, but the thrill of scoring his first goal in the fucking _NHL_ is kind of overshadowing that tonight. He’s still buzzing even after he gets back from the arena, and there’s no way he’s going to be getting to sleep like he should. He’s dicking around on his phone, checking the scores of other games--the Oilers lost too, he notes, not that it matters--and like the universe somehow senses that he’s specifically looking at the box score for McDavid points, his phone starts vibrating with an incoming call from Connor himself.

Jack abruptly remembers the bet--Connor had never mentioned it again, so Jack assumed he forgot, but why the hell else would Connor be calling him right now? They texted a few times since the Rookie Showcase, but they’ve both been too busy to actually get together. It would be kind of weird if they did anyway. They’re not that kind of friends.

“Hey, Jack. Nice game tonight. Saw you scored,” Connor says as soon as Jack answers. He sounds happy for Jack, but there’s something else there. He can’t be happy with himself. Jack wouldn’t be either. 

“Thanks, McDavid. Saw that you didn’t. You wanted to lose our bet that badly, huh?” he chirps Connor quietly. He knows Matt and Alicia are still up, but he keeps his voice down anyway for their little ones.

That gets Connor to laugh a little, which makes Jack smile for some reason. “I wish I could say that’s the reason, but I played hard. We all did. I’m not happy about it.”

Of course Connor cares so much and is weird enough to actually say it out loud. It makes Jack want to roll his eyes at how pathetic Connor sounds--but even still, he knows Connor’s not telling him everything. The weight of an entire franchise is on his shoulders. That’s another thing they have in common. 

Jack’s not sure why he cares about cheering Connor up, but he guesses that you should probably make the guy who’s going to suck your dick next time he sees you feel better when he’s down. “It’s the first game. You didn’t let anyone down.”

“Easy for you to say. You scored and should be celebrating, not talking to me. I’m sorry, Jack. You can hang up on me.”

Fucking Canadians and their apologies. Jack’s going to regret saying this, but, “Hey, I felt all their eyes on me, too. Leave it on the ice, man. This is only the beginning.”

He hears Connor sigh, and he bets he’s trying to keep his voice down in a hotel room. “Yeah, I know.” He takes a pause. “So, what’s it feel like?”

“What? Sucking my dick? I wouldn’t know first hand, but it feels awesome for me. I can ask around if you want.”

That gets Connor to laugh. Jack can’t help but smile at his second small success. “No, I meant your first NHL goal. How does it feel?”

Jack has to take a moment to let go of the next dirty joke he was about to throw at Connor and think back to earlier tonight. It gives him the chills in the best possible way. “Dude, I felt on fire.”

Connor’s voice sounds tired and a little muffled, which means he’s probably in bed. “Yeah, I bet. That’s great. You’re great.” He clears his throat and sounds a little more awake all of the sudden. “But, uh, about that other thing… Do we have a deadline on that?”

Jack knows there’s no way anyone can hear him talking to Connor, but he still thinks it’s best to double check that his door is locked. It is. “Well, our first game together is December 6. It’s not like we have any time off in between then to make random dick-sucking booty calls.”

Connor laughs again. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You don’t have to, man,” Jack says. He’s not going to deny that it’s a nice thought, but, “It was just a drunken bet.”

“No, I’m no quitter.”

Jack smirks. “You want me, McDavid. Just say it.”

He can hear Connor grin through the phone. “I just hope I live up to your expectations.”

It’s a sentence that both of them have been thinking their entire lives, about living up to their families’ and their coaches’ and the fucking world’s expectations. It means something entirely different in this situation, but it still feels a little bit the same, a familiar flip of anticipation in his stomach. 

They hang up a little while after that, and Jack goes back to dicking around on his phone like every other night. The only thing that’s different about tonight is that he keeps thinking about Connor McDavid. 

December is a long way away, but Jack would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited to see Connor. There’s a first time for everything.

***

October 22, 2015.

Jack finds himself Googling Connor’s name when he should have been sleeping hours ago--something he does far too often these days. His phone knows where he wants to go when he types “c”, which is definitely a sign that he is ignoring. 

He sees the word ‘hot’ in a headline and clicks on the article without thinking, looking to see if it has rumors that Connor’s been seeing someone or something. Of course, the only thing that’s hot is the ice when Connor’s on it, which Jack did not doubt for one second. He feels strangely relieved.

He texts Connor a line from the article. _“McDavid already playing like a seasoned pro.” told ya_

Connor just texts back some smiley face emojis and snowflakes, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

***

October 28, 2015.

 _happy birthday, eichs. unfortunately, my present for you will be cumming a little late ;)_ Connor texts him.

Jack about falls out of his chair laughing while he’s having his birthday dinner with family in Pennsylvania. Noah’s got a game with the Canes in New York the next day, so he managed to swing it so that he could be here, too. Unfortunately, that means he’s giving Jack quite the look right now.

Jack holds his phone close to his face and reads the text again. He should be mortified, or maybe turned on, but he’s mostly just pleased. Over the last few weeks, he keeps learning new things about Connor McDavid that the rest of the world doesn’t get to know. 

Noah scrunches his face up. “What’s so funny?”

Jack contains his smile and puts his phone away. “Just something a friend said.” 

Noah doesn’t look like he totally buys it, but Jack just shrugs him off and strikes up a conversation about the Patriots with his dad. His party is fun and all, but unfortunately, Jack would much rather be checking his texts from his ‘friend.’ Which--apparently it’s official. He’s calling Connor a ‘friend.’

He’s not going to dwell on that one too much. 

***  
November 12, 2015.

Connor texts him on a night the Oilers win. Jack’s fallen into his routine finally and doesn’t so much pay attention to all the eyes on him when he’s playing. He’s befriended most of his teammates, which makes things more fun on the ice, and he’ll apparently always have Noah, who somehow finds time to send Jack screenshots of his face looking angry on TV to “keep him humble.” (Jack sends pictures of Noah’s resting bitch face back at him, because fair is fair.)

 _less than a month away… are we still doing this? lol_ , Connor’s text reads.

Jack’s in bed, thank god. Otherwise he’d have to explain his semi hard-on to someone. _you quitting?_

 _never ;)_ Connor texts back a few minutes later.

To be honest, Jack hasn’t put a lot of thought into what it’s going to feel like when he actually sees Connor next. He’s hoping that it won’t be awkward, but of course it will be. It’s not like they know each other that well besides sending each other random cheeky texts.

But then what does it say about Jack that he frequently checks all of Connor’s social media accounts? And that he panicked one night when he double tapped one of Connor’s Instagram pictures of him looking pretty goddamn dapper in a suit? Jack Eichel is just another goddamn Connor McDavid groupie. He’s become the one thing he playfully and then sort of seriously hated for a while, but now he’s back to being in denial about the whole thing.

He opens their conversation thread back up an hour later and attempts to text Connor back. _thatta boy_ , he types out. He immediately deletes it, not wanting to seem like the biggest creep in the world. _haha, thats what i thought._ No, too friendly. He wants Connor to know that he wants it without making it seem like a big deal. He decides to not text him back at all and force Connor to just think about what Jack might have thought when he read the text.

The next morning, he’s at team breakfast, joking about a movie a few of them watched together last night. Jack’s pocket vibrates and his heart leaps a bit until he sees it’s just a text from his mom wishing him luck during tonight’s game. He goes back to all his messages and realizes he missed a text from Connor last night somehow.

Connor sent it at 4:02 AM.

_you’re really hot on the ice. thinking i’m maybe too excited about our bet lol_

Jack practically jumps out of his chair and makes an excuse about needing to go call his mom. He goes into a bathroom stall and locks it. Another text was sent from Connor at 5:13 AM.

_some of the guys joke about me and you going head to head. sbad that it turns me on that no one knows my mouth’s gonna be on your dick soon?_

Jack feels his cheeks flush, and he reaches down to grab himself through his jeans. Wow, this is so not like the Connor McDavid he thought he knew. First, staying up way too late is not something he expected Connor to do. Secondly, basically sexting Jack. That’s a headline that the world needs: “Connor McDavid allegedly sexts second to the throne, Jack Eichel.”

He thinks about what Connor was doing so late last night. Was he thinking about Jack that whole time? Or does Connor McDavid casually text fellow hockey players about sucking their cocks at random hours of the night?

Jack knows he should get back out or the other guys will have some questions for him, but he can’t help but palm himself a couple times, thinking about Connor potentially jacking off to the thought of them together. This is fine. Jack’s got everything under control. 

***

November 28, 2015.

Jack’s nervous. Maybe it’s because it’s their first away game in a week and the energy of the Red Wings’ fans is making his adrenaline spike, or maybe it’s because he’s a week away from getting his dick sucked by the NHL’s very own sweetheart, Connor McFuckin’David. 

He already knows he’ll have interviews up the ass the minute they land in Edmonton before the big showdown, but fuck. They’re going to all be talking about Connor, and for the first time in his life, he might actually enjoy hearing that name said out loud in an interview. Fuck.

***

December 5, 2015.

The team’s boarding the plane, and Jack’s worried he might fall asleep. He doesn’t want to wake up in Alberta, because then he knows he’ll be that much closer to Connor. He packed his favorite clothes on top of his suitcase and has been texting Connor almost every day this week until yesterday. They’ve both been tellingly silent.

A little over six hours later, the team lands in Edmonton, and Jack’s more on edge than he’s been in a while. A couple guys notice, but they don’t say anything. Jack’s sure they just think it’s extra nerves because of the hype around his first game against Connor. Evander asks him if he’s ready and cuffs him in the shoulder, clearly trying to help take the edge off, and Jack shrugs and tells him he’s fine. He’s been joking about it with Connor through text, making bets similar to the one they already have going, but now it feels real.

He waits until he gets to the hotel to turn his phone on. He’s got a text from his parents asking how the flight went, some friends back home telling him to “crush McDavid,” but still no text from Connor. 

Jack has almost convinced himself that Connor is going to ignore him the entire time they play tomorrow until he gets a text from him around noon. _just got back from practice. your flight in?_

Jack feels his stomach fill up with the type of insect that has pretty wings and are as fragile as he feels right now. _yeah, about to grab lunch._

_mind if i join? or would that be too awkward?_

_bet the media would love that,_ Jack texts back. 

_i’d love it a little more, i think_

Jack wishes that everyone in Edmonton would stop existing for just a few hours so he could find Connor and not worry about people seeing them together. _then it’s a date,_ he sends back.

It isn’t hard for Jack to convince Sam that he should come for lunch with him and Connor. He gets a bit of a weird look and a chirp about their rivalry, but Sam’s mostly chill about it. 

They wait at a table in a restaurant that Taylor Hall recommends, apparently, because Connor’s bringing Hall along. Jack wishes that he didn’t tell anyone about lunch, so it could just be him and Connor. But then that would be weird if anyone saw, and truth be told, Jack’s a little nervous to be around him by himself. Nervous might not be the right word.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but when Connor shows up to lunch, nothing else matters to him. Connor’s dirty blonde hair looks stupid soft and he’s got a baby blue plaid shirt on that’s stupid, and he’s smiling at Jack and he’s so stupid. Stupid perfect. Oh, god. Jack likes him. So much. He did not plan for this. 

He comes over to hug Jack first, and it might be all in Jack’s head, but their hug feels centuries long. Connor hugs Sam, too, though Jack doesn’t think it’s nearly as long, and then he introduces Taylor, who shakes both of their hands and grins. Any other day it would be cool to meet him, but today it doesn’t really register. 

Connor sits down next to Jack at the booth. Jack’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he holds his cup in one hand and fork in the other. Sam congratulates Connor on a job well done so far this season and says he’s excited to play against him tomorrow. Connor returns the compliment and they easily fall into hockey talk, comparing World Juniors experiences and cracking jokes that Jack thinks might only make sense to Team Canada players. Connor laughs at all the right moments and asks all the nice questions, but midway through lunch, Jack gets a text that lets him know where Connor’s mind really is.

_you’re so hot. wish i could suck you off under this table._

Jack immediately puts his phone away. He was stupid enough to read it with Sam sitting so close. Nobody seems suspicious about anything, but Jack now knows what Connor’s thinking when he glances at him every so often.

“So, you guys going to talk shit about each other during the pre-game talks tomorrow?” Taylor asks.

Connor and Jack give each other questioning looks before breaking out in huge smiles. Jack feels so stupid that he almost holds Connor’s hand under the table. 

“Definitely,” Connor says. “I’m going to tell everyone about how Jack Eichel is a french fry stealer.”

Jack laughs. “Gonna crush you, man.”

“So hard that you won’t be able to skate for days,” Connor retaliates. It’s bordering on sexual flirting. Jack hopes he’s not blushing, but he knows he is. The subject gets dropped quickly, but Jack definitely gets a questioning look from Sam. He’s going to pretend he didn’t see that.

Jack’s in the bathroom just as lunch is about to wrap up when Connor comes in to casually wash his hands. Jack dries his and watches him, not caring that Connor sees him staring. “So,” Jack says.

“So,” Connor replies. He’s got a different air about him. None of that boy next door charade, just a guy who’s giving Jack sex eyes.

“We going to do this?” Jack asks.

Connor nods, not looking at Jack while he dries his hands. “You’re coming back to my place. I told Taylor and Luke that I wanted to hang out with you, so they’re going to clear out for a bit. I’ll drive you back to yours later tonight.” He says it all very matter-of-factly, and it doesn’t fail to turn Jack on.

“Fuck, okay. Yeah. We’re doing this.” Why did it just get so hot in here?

Connor smirks and leans into Jack. He prays that no one comes into the bathroom, but when Connor reaches his hand up to tilt Jack’s head to the side ever so slightly and place a warm kiss to his neck, Jack couldn’t give less of a fuck about anything. “Can’t wait to take all of you,” Connor whispers. Jack’s hips involuntarily buck forward, and he feels how hard Connor is, too. 

Jack has never been so grateful in his entire goddamn life that he’s obsessed with hockey and is good at what he does. He puts a hand on Connor’s cheek and forces their mouths to collide. Connor’s got a firm, plump bottom lip that’s easy for Jack to suck on as they start grinding against each other. 

He starts kissing Connor’s neck, careful not to leave any marks. Connor moans softly when Jack begins feeling him through his pants and sucking on his earlobe. Jack practically growls in his ear, “Gonna make you choke on my cock. You want that?” 

Connor reaches his hand around to grab Jack’s ass and moans just loud enough to break both of them out of the trance they put each other under, abruptly jerking away and staring at each other.

“Oh, god, we need to go back out there. We look like we’ve just had sex,” Connor says, out of breath.

Jack looks at himself in the bathroom mirror and laughs. “We’ll say we got into a spontaneous fight.”

“Yeah, with our mouths.”

“Think hockey’s ready for that knowledge?”

Connor sighs, shaking his head, and starts fixing his hair that Jack must have somehow messed up. Oops. “You go out first. Say that we were talking.”

“Right,” Jack says. His cheeks are flushed, and there’s no way anyone’s going to be fooled. 

He steps out of the bathroom anyway and goes back over to their table. Sam and Taylor both have their eyebrows raised at him. “Took you long enough,” Taylor says. Jack wants to die.

“You okay, Eichs? Where’s Connor?” Sam asks.

Jack musters up all the media training he’s ever had to explain to them that he and Connor have some more catching up to do in a very serious manner. ‘Rookie bro time’ is what Jack calls it. Luckily, they don’t question him. 

Connor comes out just in time to say goodbye. Sam insists he’s cool to get back on his own, and Taylor’s getting picked up by Luke, so it’s just Connor and Jack in the car on the way to Connor’s place. 

It’s a nice house, Jack thinks, but he honestly doesn’t care right now. He just wants to lock the door and shove Connor on any flat surface he can find.

They race each other from the car to the door without talking about it. Connor wins by a bit, which is fine because it means he’s unlocking the door faster. The minute they shut the door behind them, Jack’s pushing Connor against it and has his hands in his hair.

Being this close, Jack can smell the hint of cologne Connor’s wearing as he’s kissing him harder than he’s cared to kiss anyone before. He runs a hand down Connor’s side as they kiss, and then tucks it under his shirt to rest right above his crotch. Connor’s trying to grind against him, but Jack’s other hand is placed firmly on his hip now and forces him to stay against the door. 

Jack can’t seem to breathe properly no matter how much he tries, and his heart is beating so fast. He breaks his mouth off Connor’s to kiss down his neck hard enough to leave a couple marks.

“Jack, don’t do that… We got a game tomorrow…” Connor moans, tightening his hands in Jack’s hair. It makes him even harder to think about Connor’s hands in his hair for a different reason. Jack smirks against Connor’s neck as he shoves his hand through the waistband of Connor’s boxer briefs. Connor is completely hard, and of fucking course he’s got a big dick.

Jack laughs even as he’s wrapping his hand around him and slowly jerking him off. “Got any other surprises for me, Connor?”

Connor releases Jack’s hair to put his hands on Jack’s shoulders. Their eyes meet again, and Jack feels completely at Connor’s mercy. “I believe I lost a bet.” Connor says. He gently grabs Jack’s hand that’s holding his dick and tugs it away. “I’d like to give you your hard-earned victory present now.”

He takes Jack’s hand and guides him to what must be his room. Jack doesn’t have much of a chance to look around before Connor’s gently pushing him onto the bed. It’s a queen sized mattress, luckily, but together, they’re both a little big for it. Jack lets Connor direct him where to sit, his back right against the headboard with his legs sprawled out for Connor to kneel in between. Connor’s smirk easily turns into a goofy smile that Jack still finds charming.

“You know, you still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Jack offers. He would be a little pissed off about it--he spent all that time slightly hating Connor when he could have been making out with him, and he’d really like to make up for lost time--but he doesn’t want Connor to feel obligated or whatever. 

Connor starts unbuttoning his own shirt, having a hard time with the buttons when he can’t stop staring at Jack’s obvious erection. “Yeah, I know, but I thought we agreed that I wanted this. Even before we made that stupid bet.”

Jack is slightly distracted by the newly naked torso in front of him. He blinks in confusion. “Wait, what? You wanted this even before the bet?”

Connor grins and tosses his shirt off the bed, his hands making their way to rest on Jack’s zipper. “Yeah, I thought you figured that out by now.”

He helps Connor get him out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxers. He’s still confused. “You like me?”

Connor rolls his eyes, motions to his own erection. “Well, yeah.”

“Before the bet?”

Connor laughs and lays down between Jack’s legs, propping himself up by his elbow. “Yeah, why would I proposition you with a blowjob bet if I hadn’t thought about it before?”

“Because you’re a weirdo, I don’t know…” For someone who’s about to get his dick sucked, Jack’s mind is not where it should be. “How long did you plan this for?”

Connor sighs, resting his head on Jack’s thigh. For a moment, all Jack wants to do is run his hand through Connor’s hair and stay like this forever, but he’s got to be back before curfew tonight and he definitely, definitely wants to get freaky with Connor in like ten seconds. “Do you really want me to talk about this right now?” Connor asks.

He’s got a point. Jack smirks, running his fingers through Connor’s hair and then lightly tugs it back. It makes Connor shut his eyes and lean into his hand. “Maybe later.” Jack tightens his grip on Connor’s hair and tilts Connor’s head so his mouth is pressed against the bulge in his boxers.  
“How about you do something about this before it goes away.”

Just feeling Connor’s lips pressed against the outline of his dick would probably be enough to take him over the edge at this point, but he’s determined to make this last. Connor props himself back up and starts mouthing Jack’s length through the cloth. Jack’s hand goes to ease up on Connor’s hair, but Connor’s other hand comes up and presses Jack’s hand back on his head.

Jack moans when Connor cups his balls and slides his hand up Jack’s thigh under his boxers to lightly stroke him. “Can I take these off?” Connor asks, looking up at Jack with large, glazed over eyes. Jack just nods and helps Connor get him out of his boxers, Connor kneeling up to make room for Jack to take them off. When they succeed in getting rid of the boxers, Connor gets an interesting look on his face.

“What’s up, man? Never seen a dick before?” Jack smirks.

Connor smiles a little and bites his lip, making eye contact with Jack finally. “Besides my own? Once.”

“What? Dylan’s?”

Connor laughs and shrugs. “Yeah, long time ago.”

Jack sits up better and shoves him slightly. “Knew it. You guys are obnoxious.”

“Jealous?” Connor gives him a playful look before getting up and digging around in a drawer for something.

“What are you looking for?” Jack asks. He didn’t really plan on going further than a blowjob, but while they’re here, they might as well. Connor’s probably pulling out the essentials.

When Connor comes back on the bed and lays out some items, Jack finds he’s right. There’s a condom and a bottle of lube, but then--that’s a red BU baseball cap.

“Why do you have that?” Jack stares at it even as Connor picks it up and puts it on Jack’s head backwards. 

Connor sits back on his heels and looks mischievous. “I told you, I’m a fan of yours. It just happened to be lying around, and I thought I’d bring it for you.”

Jack looks at him curiously and is not sure what Connor’s getting at. “Thanks, but I think I already have like twenty of these.” Jack feels the hat on his head, and he can tell it’s pretty new.

Connor bites his lip again. “I kinda have had this fantasy, and I was hoping you’d be into it.”

“Go on…”

“Basically, it’s you with a hat on backwards fucking me,” Connor deadpans.

Jack feels like someone punched him in the lungs and he forgot how to breathe. He leans forward and grabs Connor’s arm, making him come closer to Jack until he has no choice but to settle his face against Jack’s neck or fall over. Jack puts a protective hand on the back of Connor’s neck. “You been jerking off to me, McDavid? Want me to throw you around?”

Connor smiles into Jack’s neck, nodding against him. “Is that okay?” he mumbles into Jack’s neck.

Connor’s skin is warm and soft, making Jack want to cuddle him, but they’ve been playing around too long. He can only get re-hard so many times in a day. 

He moves his hand to Connor’s shoulder and gently tugs Connor’s head off his shoulder. He musters up all the douchiness he’s capable of. “All right, but you’re gonna have to commit to this. You do what I say, when I say it, and you be good for me. Got that?” Connor nods quickly like the good little hockey player he is.

“Good. Now, stand up and take your pants off in front of me,” Jack tells him. He goes back to his position against the headboard as he watches Connor undress quickly, jacking himself off slowly as he does. He checks out Connor’s ass before he has a chance to get back on the bed, and man, he’s ready for what’s to come.

“Take my shirt off,” he orders next. Connor does as he’s told and then stays kneeling between Jack’s thighs. Jack looks Connor up and down, impressed with his size and muscle in all areas. He can’t believe he gets to wreck Connor McDavid the night before their big game.

He tells Connor to lie back down on the bed and prop himself up near Jack’s crotch. Jack doesn’t need much help getting fully hard again, but he puts his hand back in Connor’s hair and then rubs the tip of his cock around Connor’s lips. Connor instinctively tries to put him in his mouth, but Jack yanks his head away. “Not until I say so, understood?”

Connor looks up at Jack with pleading eyes, but he nods. “Keep your eyes on me, Connor,” Jack says as he opens Connor’s mouth with his dick and forces Connor to take him as deep as he can. He feels himself hit the back of Connor’s throat and Connor about to gag, but he forces him to stay put. “You said you wanted me to choke you like a whore, so that’s what you get.”

Connor moans around him, but he gags and is strong enough to pull himself off Jack involuntarily.

“S-Sorry…” Connor says, voice already sounding wrecked. Jack realizes that they’ll both have to do interviews tomorrow, and Connor’s probably still going to have a sore throat. It makes him moan and force Connor’s mouth back around him. He feels Connor’s lip stretch as he carefully moves Connor’s head up and down his length. Connor’s tongue swirls around the head when he has the chance. He’s good enough to keep his teeth tucked back, but Jack knows Connor can do better. He’s a quick learner.

“Baby, I need you to hollow your cheeks a bit. Suck me like you mean it,” Jack breathes.

Connor hollows his cheek and sucks harder, taking Jack down further. Tears are brimming his eyes, but he keeps bobbing his head, even when Jack feels him wanting to pull off. Connor’s no quitter. He has to be the best at everything, and Jack’s okay with that right now.

As he’s got Connor going down on him, he reaches over to try to grab Connor’s ass. God, he wants to fuck him so badly. There were so many ways that he wanted today to go, but hey, if Connor wants him to fuck him, he’s not going to say no. 

It’s not even 3 p.m. when Jack is bending over, opening Connor up with his tongue. What are their lives? What are their choices? Jack doesn’t care. He squirts a healthy amount of lube on three of his fingers, pressing one in at a time when Connor’s ready for the next one. Once he’s got all three fingers fucking him open and Connor starts pressing back, Jack knows he’s ready.

“So, how am I fucking you in this fantasy?” Jack says, kissing down Connor’s spine.

Connor moans, pressing back on Jack’s fingers, desperate for more stimulation. “However you want…”

Jack flips Connor over and pulls Connor’s legs over his shoulders. He reaches back for the condom and more lube, carefully putting both on and trying not to get distracted by Connor jerking himself off. 

When he presses in just an inch, he watches Connor’s facial expressions, not wanting to go too fast. He wants to wreck this guy, but not enough to make him play badly on the ice tomorrow. That would beat the point of everything.

And fuck. He presses in a little further and remembers for the first time in the past hour that Connor is his competition, currently one of the best--if not the best--hockey player of their time, and Jack’s got him practically begging him to fuck him. That makes Jack start up a rhythm without even thinking about it, but Connor is quick to join him in the rhythm, pressing back every time Jack pulls away for a second.

He grabs onto Connor’s hips and fucks him into the bed as best he can, feeling Connor’s legs tightening over his shoulders and spasming. God, Jack could do this all day. He thrusts hard a couple times, seeing Connor’s eyes practically roll back, and then he knows he has to calm down or he’s going to come in two seconds. He pulls out and props himself against the pillows, instructing Connor to get on top of him. 

Connor wastes no time in aligning himself with Jack’s dick and starts fucking himself on it, his hands pressing into Jack’s chest. Jack moans and puts his hands on Connor’s hips, helping him to stay up as he goes up and down.

“Say something dirty. Please, please,” Connor whines, fucking himself hard on Jack’s dick.

Jack moans. “Fuck, ride my dick, baby. You’re so, so good. Um, fuck… Connor, this feels so fucking good, I don’t even know, man…”

Connor groans and presses off Jack’s chest, putting his hands on either side of the bed and lifting himself off and on Jack’s cock. “Fuck me, god. You hate me, fuck me with your huge cock, Jack…”

Jack laughs, but he shuts himself up before ruining the moment. Don’t get him wrong, this is definitely being filed in his head as one of the top five moments in his life--right next to his first NHL goal--but of all the things he thought Connor McDavid to be, a roleplaying cockslut was not one of them.

Connor sighs, getting tired of lifting himself up and down, so he just resorts to grinding against Jack with his dick still inside him. “Fuck, do something, you’re not supposed to laugh.”

Jack can’t wait until next time when Connor dominates. He definitely has it in him. Still, he lifts Connor off him and forces him to get on all fours. “Fine. Head down, ass up, McDavid.” He playfully presses Connor’s head into the pillows to prove his point before thrusting back into him, a good grip on Connor’s hips to keep him kneeling up. 

A few minutes later, Connor’s moaning like crazy, and Jack knows he’s hitting the right spot. He thrusts harder, trying to reach around to jerk Connor off, but Connor slaps his hand away and goes to jerk himself off.

“Fuck, Connor, I’m not gonna last much longer…”

Connor starts jerking himself off faster and pushes his ass back against Jack so Jack’s balls are slapping his ass. “Fucking come in me then, quitter.”

“Oh, fuck you, it’s not like I do this often.”

Connor moans through his small laugh. “God, come in me, Jack. I want to feel you fill me up.”

Jack moans, and he logically knows that they are having safe sex, but just the thought of being the only guy Connor ever fucks again and maybe getting to actually fill him up for real drives him over the edge. He’s holding onto Connor’s hips hard as his orgasm hits him in waves. Connor’s quick to follow, coming all over his hand and slightly on the sheets. 

They stay in the same position for a couple seconds, both letting the rest of their orgasms die down, and then Jack slides out carefully, rolling over to lie down on the bed.

Connor slowly turns around too and lies next to him, trying to get his breathing back.

“Fuck, man,” Jack says.

“Right?” Connor replies.

“Damn right.”

Jack waits for his breathing to go back to normal before speaking. “So, was that what you wanted?”

Connor makes a pleased sound and turns ever so slightly to curl into Jack’s side. Jack pretends it doesn’t make him feel as happy as it does. “It was everything and more. I’m already getting hard again.” He laughs.

Jack smirks and closes his eyes, wrapping an arm around Connor to draw him in closer. Connor’s skin feels slightly cold from sweating, so Jack reaches under them to pull the covers over them. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Connor would probably laugh harder if his body didn’t slightly hurt from all the hard gripping and fucking. “Oh, well. It’s already happened.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He goes a little silent, worried that after Connor drives him to his hotel tonight and they have the game tomorrow, then this would all have ‘already happened,’ and it won’t be a thing anymore.

Connor seems to notice his silence. “You okay? Was that okay for you?”

Jack nods against the pillows and looks slightly down at Connor, who has found a comfy spot on Jack’s chest to rest his head.

Connor’s hand searches for Jack’s, and when he finds it, he laces their fingers together. “What’re you thinking ‘bout?”

Jack wants to be honest with him. “About not knowing if we’ll ever do this again,” he says quietly.

Connor squeezes his hand a little and rubs his toes against the top of Jack’s foot. These feet that are so often disgustingly drenched in sweat from aggressive skating are touching. How romantic. “Do you want to do this again?”

 _I want to do everything with you_ , Jack thinks. God, sex makes him sappy. _Connor_ makes him sappy. “Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Jack exhales sharply. “Really?”

Connor nods his head against him. “Yeah, I think I like you. Is that okay?”

Jack’s heart has died and is now soaring to heaven, space, wherever. “Yeah, that’s more than okay.”

“You like me too, don’t you?”

Connor’s already told him that he likes him too, but somehow it feels like saying it out loud could mean a different outcome. “...Yeah. I really like you, Connor.” Fuck.

Connor gives his hand a big squeeze before curling himself into Jack even more. “Cool, man. That’s awesome.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but he holds Connor a little tighter.

***

They end up falling asleep and not waking up until way past 9 PM. Jack probably needed the sleep since the flight, but both of their phones have multiple missed calls and texts. They both get up in a hurry, and Connor’s driving Jack back to his hotel before they can really talk about where they go from here or anything.

When Connor pulls up to the front of the hotel, he gives Jack a look that he can’t decipher.

“So, are we going to act like everything’s normal and just go about our days tomorrow, or what should we do?”

Jack’s pretty sure he isn’t ready to declare his undying love for Connor, but there’s definitely something there. “Well, everyone’s expecting a showdown. I think I’m still going to kick your ass on the ice, but we can be a bit nicer for the cameras, if that’s what you mean.”

Connor playfully glares at him, and it’s exactly what Jack wanted. “You wish you were better than me. Haven’t you heard? I’m kind of a big deal.”

Jack laughs, and it’s never not going to be nice to hear Connor’s personality shine through the bullshit media persona. Jack opens the door, figuring he better face the real world sooner rather than later. “Oh, but honey, don’t you remember? I kind of got the first goal of the season. Kind of why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Connor tries to stifle a grin by biting his lip, but it shines through. “Well, _honey_ , you might have topped me tonight, but never forget, I’m still on top.”

 _Oh my god, he didn’t._ Jack has to get out of the car before he ravishes Connor again, so he does, shutting the door quickly. He leans down to wave through the passenger window until Connor drives away with a goofy smile on his face.

All the way up to his room, all Jack can think about is stupid Connor McDavid’s face and his perfect ass and perfect eyes, and god, Jack is so grossly into him. He’s a good person, he doesn’t deserve this.

He’ll take it, though. It’s nothing he ever expected, but if there’s one thing he and Connor do well, it’s exceed expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I wanted to keep going and make them fall madly in love, but I'm not going to revisit this universe until after the holidays, most likely. We're going to pretend that Connor was never broken, ok? ok.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [congrhatulations](http://congrhatulations.tumblr.com/). I need more hockey friends, plz.


End file.
